


The Sound of Silence

by theescapist99



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Lots of Angst, M/M, credence and percival dont really know each other before the movie, implied grindlegraves/credence relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10107140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Percival Graves, workaholic that he is, is doing all he can to run the Auror's department after his time in captivity. Seraphina comes to him with a prisoner that needs to be disposed of "off the record", and as usual she trusts her right hand man to do the job.Of course, that prisoner ends up being Credence Barebone.





	1. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello darkness, my old friend  
> I've come to talk with you again  
> Because a vision softly creeping  
> Left its seeds while I was sleeping

Percival Graves hasn’t had sex in decades, and he was perfectly fine with that, _thank you very much._

The man was much too busy, after all. He was a man married to his work, and he took no mistresses. Percival probably spent more time in his office than he ever did his bedroom, which he only used to catch some rest now and then.

He would often insist to people it wasn’t something he resented or disliked -- although he did often catch himself judging the relationships of others with maybe a _tinge_ of scorn. Just as people did not understand how he could prioritize work as much as he did, Percival failed to understand how people seemed to place so much importance on silly things like "anniversaries" and "honeymoons". He’s snapped at many Aurors who have called off for such occasions, especially when they were already short staffed.

To his _extreme_ annoyance, Percival Graves had come to be known around the office as “Pious Percy”.

And this did not change after he re-emerged from his captivity with Grindelwald.

Actually -- it kind of got worse.

Percival had insisted that he would take no time off to cope, whatever that was even supposed to mean. As far as he remembered, he had not lost much.

_So he had endured a bit of torture, so what? Nothing he hadn’t done before._

And as far as the fact that none of his associates noticed he had been replaced, well -- it was hardly surprising.

Percival knew his own reputation, and it wasn’t really that off the mark.

In many aspects, Percival Graves actually _was_ kind of a jerk. And he didn’t mind being seen that way, as long as it got his Aurors to obey. Whether their obedience was out of fear or out of respect, he just quite frankly didn’t care.

The same obedience came in handy when Grindelwald broke out of prison not long after they had arrested him, and most MACUSA employees found they had no time for personal lives anyway.

Percival expressed his annoyance at Seraphina for allowing this to happen.

 _He_ should have been the one to deal with Grindelwald, as he typically deals with all their criminals. Unfortunately, they forbade Percival from being the one to interrogate Grindelwald, and now he was gone. Percival almost didn’t want to know who they might have sent in his stead. It was likely Abernathy, who’s knees would have buckled immediately if Grindlewald so much as smirked.

If Percival had only been the one to question him, Grindelwald would have been the one quaking in his boots.

And so, as they all scrambled to tap every wire, to monitor every wizard -- Percival made it a point to relentlessly remind Seraphina what a mistake she had made by not letting Percival deal with him.

“We wouldn’t even be in this mess if yo---”

“Yes, Mr. Graves. I get it.”, she would roll her eyes.

This is why, perhaps, she came to him one Monday morning with a smirk on lips.

Percival had been in the interrogation room. He had been alone, working on paperwork; he was filling out details about a wizard he had just questioned. Jeremy somethingorother.

Unfortunately, Percival hadn’t been able to get much out of him, so naturally he was already feeling irate. He looked up at the President, who was standing on the other side of the desk. There was a gleam in her eye that Percival had come to recognize as something she only wore when she was about to do something rather petty. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I have another prisoner for you.” Seraphina stated plainly.

“Right now?” Percival scoffed as he compiled his papers back into his suitcase. “We have the Rodgers interview in 10 --”

“Abernathy will be filling in for you.”

_God dammit Abernathy._

Percival stared at her questioningly, but she only turned to leave, appearing to motion someone out in the hallway to come inside. Before she sauntered away completely, Seraphina turned around again to say, “I want this one to go straight to execution, Graves. And please, do it yourself. I don't want anyone else finding out he was ever even here. Getting rid of him could cause… _controversy_ with certain people. But theres just really nothing else we can do with him. And don’t _ever_ tell me again that I don't bring all our detainees to you.”

With a huff at the end of her little tirade, Seraphina finally disappeared, the door closing behind her.

Percival leaned back against the uncomfortable metal chair and sighed, confused and tired. Seconds later, the door opened again.

Two guards walked in, both on the other side of a scrawny looking young boy.

Percival might have guessed he could be 17 or 19, but he did look very malnourished, so it was possible that he was in his early 20’s. Shoulder length black hair was draped on either side of pale, sharp cheekbones. The hair, though greasy and unkempt, made the kid look rather feminine -- Percival might not have known this was a male straight away if it had not been for the Adam’s apple.  

Roughly, the guards all but tossed the boy onto the prisoners chair, whose handcuffs clanked loudly.

“Who do we have here, Gladys?” he asked one of the guards, an older woman who had been a long time MASCUSA employee. 

“Credence Barebone, sir.”

Percival looked up at Gladys, unable to keep the surprise from his expression.

_Credence Barebone?_

_The Second Salemers kid?_

But when Percival took a second look, a closer look; he recognized him.

Percival had encountered Credence only a few times before his own captivity, and the interactions were brief. For the most part he was just another clearly mistreated kid that Percival had felt sorry for. Percival could remember offering him his own scarf and giving him some gloves at a separate time, but for someone who made as much income as Percival did, it was literally just a drop in the bucket.

He had always noticed that Credence seemed to stare a lot, though.

Kind of like he was staring right now.

Still -- there was something else that disquieted Percival.

Before Grindelwald, Percival would always notice the Second Salem boy watching him from a distance. However, the moment Percival would look back over to him, the boy would instantly look elsewhere; trying to act as though he had never been looking at all.

Yet when Percival met Credence’s eyes now… they were staring back.

It felt very strange, but somehow familiar.

Disliking the odd twisting sensation that seemed to be stirring through his insides, Percival broke the eye contact and looked back up at the guards, doing his best to school his expression back into a stoic one. 

“And what did Mr. Barebone do?” he asked them, wondering how one earth the nervous child he was remembering could end up with an instant death sentence.

It _was_ odd to be interrogating anyone without a proper trial.

That was usually step one, where Percival would gather all his notes and relevant information. However since Seraphina had already mentioned that they had to minimize the knowledge of this prisoner, he could see why she had wanted to skip the trial.

Still, this was totally off protocol, and Percival tried to dismiss any strange feelings he was having to that. For someone who lived and breathed his job as much as Percival did, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion.

The two women exchanged glances, looking highly uncomfortable at his question.

“He was the obscurus, sir.”

_Oh._

_That’s right._

To be fair, Percival _had_ been informed that Credence had been the obscurus before. But it had been, to Percival anyway, a minor detail in an avalanche of new information he had to absorb since his return.

“I see. Alright, thank you very much, Gladys, Jennifer. You’re dismissed.”

Percival waved them off and they left, the door seeming to slam behind them in contrast to the sound of the tense silence. 

_Well -- this is awkward._

Reflexively, Percival tried to reach for his paperwork, but remembered there _was_ no paperwork. Seraphina had just wanted Percival to see to the execution process. He wondered if she had actually thought that he would get some kind of satisfaction or closure from killing the kid who Grindelwald had sought with such determination. But Percival didn't want to think that, because quite frankly, it wasn't true at all. He then wondered if it was the opposite, and that she was punishing him for pestering her about Grindelwald. But he didn't want to think that either. Percival preferred to think that she had given him this task just knowing that he would be the most trustworthy, reliable employee to follow through and keep it secret. He figured that she just planned to obliviate the guards who brought him in. Made sense.

Percival sighed, folding his hands onto his lap with lack of anything else to do with them.

This entire time, Credence had remained quiet.

 _Quiet,_ _but still watching him._

Percival couldn’t tell if he was looking for something, or perhaps waiting for something.

“Look...” Percival sighed, remembering all the obligations he had to attend to. He couldn’t waste much longer on this. “For what it’s worth, I am _very_ sorry for what Grindlewald did to you, when he was using my appearance. You _do_ realize that it wasn’t me -- don’t you?”

Percival waited for a response, but again Credence was mute.

He just continued to stare.

Percival frowned.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he had even asked that.

Did it _really_ matter what he realized or what he didn’t? The kid was going to die in a moment anyway.

It’s not like Percival felt guilty, or anything.

_Nope._

Guilt just wasn’t something Percival Graves did -- unapologetic bastard that he was.

Sighing, he got up and grabbed the kid by an arm, pulling him upward. The boy seemed to inhale sharply at the contact, and Percival found that he was much gentler than he typically tended to be with prisoners.

The boy just felt so _frail_.

As they walked quickly down the hallway, Percival looked over and noticed that Credence at least had stopped staring, and was now looking down at the floor they were striding on.

Well, more like Percival was striding and Credence was being dragged along with him.

But with his posture once again stooped, he suddenly looked much more like the Credence Barebone that Percival could recall.

With his eyes once again downcast, Credence looked so much more like the frightened kid who could barely say “thank you” without stuttering 20 times.

By the time they reached the execution room, Percival found that he had tightened his grip on Credence’s arm. He wasn’t honestly sure if it was something he did in reaction to his own unnerving nostalgia, or if some subconscious part of him was actually trying to comfort the boy.

Percival shook his head, willing himself to get back into focus. He closed the door behind him, brought out his wand, and turned to face Credence who was still not saying fucking anything -- _and good god was it making this so much more awkward._

God dammit Seraphina, he thought, as he pulled the silver string of memories from Credence’s temple. In one fluid motion, he threw it onto the bubbling, black potion.

Percival grabbed Credence by the hand (a nagging voice in his head reminding himself that he usually just nudges them forward, but okay) and guided him to the edge of the metallic floor, where solid ground melted away into the abyss.

Percival looked down, and he was shocked to see himself in the potion’s reflection.

He was… naked.

With Credence.

Who was _also_ naked.

They were lying together on what looked to be a bed, with Credence curling into Percival like they were… like they were _cuddling_. 

_What on God’s green earth?_

And then Percival, after getting over the initial shock of seeing himself naked -- _with another person no less_ \-- reminded himself that Grindelwald _had_ stolen his identity and once he put two and two together and the world made (some) sense again. Still, he now had to deal with concept that Grindelwald had used his body for sexual purposes, and to fuck another man.

A man that was 20 years his junior.

He brought a hand his mouth, mentally scolding himself for getting emotional. Percival could feel actual tears creeping into the corners of his eyes, and he tried to blink them away, but they burned like death potion.

And just when he thought he was coming close to getting a hold of himself -- another, newkind of horror dawned on Percival.

Whatever heart he had seemed to crumble as he realized that this -- _this_ memory of what looked to be pillow talk with Percival’s body -- was apparently one of Credence Barebone’s happiest memories.

Credence’s most precious recollection wasn’t something to do with his sister, or maybe a particularly memorable birthday party as should be normal for a young man his age.

In the black mirror before him, Percival watched himself give Credence an affectionate kiss on the forehead, and Credence’s reflection leaned into it hungrily, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Credence, I…” Percival wasn’t sure where to even begin, but he looked up to look at Credence as he was in the present day.

Guilt ran threw him as he looked at Credence now, skinnier and hallowed, in comparison to only a few months earlier -- when he was happy.

He was happy with a man who looked like Percival.

Credence was staring at him again, but this time the wetness of fresh tears gave shine to his cheeks.

And he looked straight into Percival’s eyes as he shook his head, and said with a cracking voice:

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves. I _know_ I don’t know you. But I…I let myself get arrested. I came here on my own because I..."

Credence's tone went down to a breathless whisper, "...I just wanted to see you again.”

The magnitude Credence's words gutted Percival, and Percival fought the urge to quip that this had he had liked him better when he was silent. It wasn't even necessarily true, but Percival certainly never enjoyed the rare occasions when he was at a loss for words.

_What the hell do you even say to that?_

Percival opted to look back at the potion. The scene had changed --- but still Percival saw himself. This time he was at a diner with Credence sitting across from him.

In the image, he watched himself hand Credence a dead flower and with a wave of his hand, the flower bloomed back into life.

Credence -- a much healthier version of himself -- practically glowed in his amazement.

Percival saw the way that Credence looked at his impostor.

There was so much admiration and _love_ in his gaze.

It was the look of someone who couldn’t believe they could be given such a wonderful gift. It was no longer any wonder that Credence seemed so comfortable keeping eye contact with him now -- clearly they had kept much more than eye contact in the past.

But the guilt of this truth was overpowering, and Percival found himself with tears stinging at the corner of his eyes again.

Solemnly, as he stood on the edge of the illusion of their happiness, Percival wondered if _he_ should just jump into the potion instead.


	2. Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the vision that was planted in my brain  
> Still remains  
> Within the sound of silence

The chair hovered over to them, expectantly.

Percival swallowed hard, the film reel of Credence’s memory still reflected in the black water beneath it.

He turned to Credence, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes again.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Get on, then.”  

Credence did not argue or even hesitate. The chains of his handcuffs clinked and clanked together as he dragged himself to the uncomfortable looking chair, that pulled away the moment he was firmly perched on the seat.

As the chair began it’s slow descent into the darkness, Credence appeared to be fixated on the memories below -- which, really, was the whole point of the exercise. Percival had always been of the opinion that they ought to just push the prisoners into the death potion, toss them in quickly and save valuable employee time.

Yet, Credence’s eyes somehow seemed to express beyond the typical nostalgia Percival had seen on the faces of prisoners, time and time again. It gave Percival pause.

Through a thin veil of glistening tears, Percival could see a longing. There was a twisted sense of excitement in his pupils, that twinkled like stars shooting through a pitch black sky.

He reflected on what Credence had told him just moments ago.

_“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves. I know I don’t know you. But I…I let myself get arrested. I came here on my own because I ...I just wanted to see you again.”_

Credence hadn’t argued, he had not hesitated. Somehow, he must have known what was going to happen.

He came on his own, because Credence knew what they would do. Percival realized with overpowering disquiet, that Credence came here to see him again -- and not much after.

Credence _wanted_ to die.

There was an odd feeling that flickered through Percival, a foreign kind of urge. It was something that most people would call protectiveness, but to Percival Graves it was just strange.

Strange, but powerful.

Credence’s feet, which were bare and dirty with some kind of grime, were inches above the abyss. On the surface of demise, Percival saw his own reflection running a gentle hand over a scarred and battered body; broken flesh knitting together through wandless magic.

 _Dammit_.

Percival groaned, and with a flick of his hand, he pulled Credence back to safety. Credence landed awkwardly on his knees, letting out a little “oof!” as he fell by Percival’s feet.

Percival waited for him to straighten up. As he rose, Credence watched him as though he had grown a second head. All things considered, he found the confusion on Credence’s face somehow endearing.

“Mr. Graves… what…” Credence rasped out, but Percival put a finger to his lips to shush him.

Gently, he put placed a hand one of Credence’s handcuffed ones.

Percival beckoned Credence to follow him out.

 

* * *

 

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know, okay?!? _I don’t fucking know_!”

Credence winced like he had been slapped. Percival felt a pang of guilt at the reaction, but he was much too busy pacing back and forth in a panic to do much about it.

He was frantic.

Of course he was frantic -- Percival Graves had never disobeyed a command from the President before. It was uncharted territory. And he knew she would not be happy once she discovered they were missing. The extent of her reaction to that unhappiness, however, was yet to be seen.

Still, Percival had never known Seraphina Piquery to be the forgiving type.

Credence shifted, and the clinking of metal reminded Percival that his hands were still chained.

He hadn’t had much time to see to Credence’s comfort, he had apparated them straight to his brownstone and immediately tried to do what Percival Graves did best: strategize.

He sighed and walked over to the kitchen chair Credence was slumped over on. He brought out his wand, and again Credence winced. It reminded Percival of the way an abused dog cowers away from a broom.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Percival told him as though he wasn’t in the process of executing him less than an hour ago. Cautiously, he tapped the handcuffs and they unlocked. They fell away to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.

In close proximity again, Percival was reminded of the full extent of Credence’s battered appearance.

“So, what happened after the night of the obscurus?” Percival asked him, “What have you been doing this whole time?”

After a pause, Credence opted to answer with a humorless smile. Something about it chilled Percival to the bone.

“I’m not sure you want to know, Mr. Graves.”, he whispered.

And with that, the suicide by execution made a bit more sense.

Percival grimaced, but didn’t press further. He knew the boy was likely right -- he didn’t want to know. At least for now. He’s had enough of an emotional rollercoaster for one day, and it likely was nowhere near over.

MACUSA would be looking for them, and soon.

And Percival still had no idea what they were going to do about it.

He still couldn’t say for sure why pulled this stunt in the first place.

He didn’t know this boy. And from what Percival did know of Credence Barebone, he destroyed half of New York City! For all Percival knew, this could have been just some elaborate plot to kill him. Credence could burst into his obscurus form right this second and swallow his entire home into one big ball of darkness. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing Percival’s ever seen.

But somehow, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

He knew that if Credence had really come here to take him out, he probably would have already been dead. No one Auror could stand up against that thing, if the testimonies had been accurate.

And yet Credence had still waited patiently for Percival to remove the handcuffs. He hadn’t even asked him to do it.

Percival was brought back to the question he had been asking himself longer than he would ever care to admit:

“Why me?”

He asked Credence with an unfounded vulnerability in his voice, and the boy seemed taken aback.

“Why you…what?”

“Why me? Why did you want to see me?” Percival elaborated with perhaps a little more anger than he had intended, “Why not Tina? Or her boyfriend or whoever the hell else you met? Why did you come to me?”

“I don’t know…” said Credence, his voice already quivering with emotion, “I guess… I just missed you.”

“But I’m not him!” Percival shrieked suddenly, louder than he could remember screaming in his adult life.

As the word left his lips, he could feel himself break. Heavy sobs wracked his weary body, and Percival crumpled to his knees in tears.

It wasn’t just about Credence. Percival was smart enough to know that.

It was a great many resentful emotions that had been brewing inside him, slipping over like a bad potion spills from it’s cauldron.

What the hell was this?

In one day, the persona he had spent his whole life building seemed to be crumbling. Come undone by this boy -- this strange, poor, orphan boy -- who he had no idea what to do with.

All because he had seen a mirage.

All because, for just a second, Percival had seen some bizarre alternative universe where he was happy…and in love.

He didn’t notice Credence clamber down from the chair to kneel down next to Percival, but he felt the skinny fingers curl around his shuddering shoulders. They squeezed it lightly but in Credence’s state, it was likely with all the strength he could muster. Percival turned to look at him.

Credence’s face was just a fingerbreadth away from his own.

The same excited twinkle he saw earlier seemed to peer out again from the darkness of his pupils. It reminded Percival of the shimmer that seemed to decorate every memory shown on the surface of death.

In that darkness, he saw the shine of his own reflection once more.

But this wasn’t Grindelwald.

It was him -- it was _truly_ him.

It was the real Percival Graves. It was a Percival Graves that was broken, scared, confused, and quite haunted -- but it was _real_.

Percival found himself moving closer, drawn in by the reflection, until his lips grazed Credence’s own gently. Credence gasped a little, but he did not pull away. Taking that as consent, Percival placed a tentative kiss on much too chapped, much younger lips.

They kissed back with yearning and thirst.

Maybe, Percival thought -- maybe he and Credence could come to make some happy memories of their own.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat!
> 
> https://carryonmyobscurialson.tumblr.com/


End file.
